“To see you,” replied Duane, glad to speak.
“Why?”
“Well—Euchre thought—he wanted me to talk to you, cheer you up a bit,” replied Duane, somewhat lamely. The earnest eyes embarrassed him.
“Euchre's good. He's the only person in this awful place who's been good to me. But he's afraid of Bland. He said you were different. Who are you?”
Duane told her.
“You're not a robber or rustler or murderer or some bad man come here to hide?”
“No, I'm not,” replied Duane, trying to smile.
“Then why are you here?”
“I'm on the dodge. You know what that means. I got in a shooting-scrape at home and had to run off. When it blows over I hope to go back.”
“But you can't be honest here?”